


First Initiative

by clarityhiding



Series: Tales from the House of Mau [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Dragons, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Alternate Universe - Neighbors, M/M, Sickfic, implied off-screen laying of eggs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-12
Updated: 2019-02-12
Packaged: 2019-10-26 14:43:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17747831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clarityhiding/pseuds/clarityhiding
Summary: Against his better judgement (well, okay, not really), Jason allows his boyfriend to join the peewee game. Also, relationship stuff—getting to know each other, finding out likes and dislikes, learning about someone's entire secret life... that sort of thing.





	First Initiative

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd. \o/

After almost two months of hanging out and sharing meals, Jason _thinks_ he might be dating Tim Drake. They haven't done anything more risqué than fall asleep on each other while watching _Lord of the Rings_ together on Tim's laptop (the guy is determined to convince him of the appeal of high fantasy), but he's fairly certain Tim's at least interested. He thinks.

"We're on for lunch tomorrow too, right?" Tim asks one Friday evening as he clears Jason's little table. They've taken to eating lunch together on the weekends, generally something Tim picks up and brings back so Jason doesn't have to leave the store short-staffed.

"Ah, actually—can I take a raincheck? I've got the peewee game tomorrow, and that usually lasts at least four hours."

Tim's eyebrows shoot up. "You close up the shop for that?"

"Naw, Charlie can usually handle most of the crowd, though sometimes Sin helps out. The peewee game is basically the most lucrative babysitting gig ever, so it's totally worth it," Jason explains.

"Huh. Seems kind of complex for a babysitting job."

"Damian—the older of the two boys—wanted sword lessons at Battle Acts, but his dad was worried about him doing anything too violent, particularly since he's already on the aggressive side. One thing led to another, and a compromise was reached with the peewee game."

"Sorry, I'm still trying to wrap my head around the fact that paying a guy to run an entire W&W campaign was the arrived-on compromise for denying sword training," Tim says, staring at him. "Jason. That is not normal."

"Eh, that's sort of an abnormal family anyway? I mean, his dad is Bruce Wayne, who's pretty much the wealthiest man in Gotham." Wayne had also seemed desperate and at the end of his rope when it came to dealing with his son, so when Jason overheard the exchange, he'd stepped up and suggested a tabletop game might give the kid the adventure he was looking for without the use of actual weaponry.

" _Bruce Wayne?_ " Tim squeaks. "As in, one of the most brilliant engineers in the country? The owner of WayneTech and thus my boss? _That_ Bruce Wayne?"

"One and the same."

"I may have to drop in on the game tomorrow," Tim says, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Just to check up on things and make sure you're treating the W&W environment with respect, of course. I know how you feel about high fantasy elements."

 

* * *

 

There's a soft rap on the doorframe while Jason is in the middle of cleaning up the miniatures, having already photographed their positions so he can recreate the set-up for next session. He's more than a little surprised to see Tim standing there. "It's nearly five. Anyone ready for a snack? I got samosas from the Indian place on Geary."

"Food!" Jon crows excitedly, scooting away from the table and rushing over to inspect the take-out bags. He's in the middle of a growth spurt at the moment and readily inhales anything edible that's placed in front of him. "Mr. Jason, can we?"

"Lunch was a while ago, so I don't see why not," Jason decides. "Just lay it out on the table there, Tim."

Damian starts to protest the intrusion when his own stomach betrays him with an inquisitive rumble. "A snack would not be completely remiss," he concedes.

"Guys, this is my friend Tim. Tim, Damian and Jon."

Tim pauses in his arranging of take-out containers to peer over at Jon. "You wouldn't be Jon Kent, would you?"

"Yeah, how'd you know?"

"Family resemblance. I was college roommates with—I guess Conner would be your cousin, right?" Tim says, smiling warmly at the boy.

"Something like that, yeah," Jon agrees around a mouthful of potato, his head bobbing. "Oh, but that would mean that—" He breaks off, swallowing.

"I hardly see what interest Jon's degenerate cousin is," Damian says loudly, pushing his way forward to give Tim the stink-eye. "This is a private engagement. It's far from appropriate for your wastrel friends to be intruding, Todd."

"Damian—"

"I'm sorry," Tim says before Jason can really chastise the boy. "Jason suggested I might join this campaign when I asked him about possible W&W games. I figured I'd come and check it out, meet the other players first."

Jon's face lights up and he bounces excitedly on his toes. "Oh, please! Conner says you're the best to group up with—you always know all the loopholes in the game mechanics."

"I can't see why a grown man would have any interest in playing a childish game of make-believe." Damian's lips curl back in a sneer.

"Oh, I don't know," Tim drawls. "Sometimes playing make-believe is the best way to experience life."

 

* * *

 

"Why did you say that?" Jason asks later, after Wayne has come and picked up both boys.

"You're going to have to be more specific," Tim says, as he helps Jason clean up and pack things away. "I said a lot of things."

"About joining the peewee game. You seemed pretty against it when I originally suggested it to you," Jason clarifies.

"That was before I knew you. And before I realized one of the boys was Conner's nephew," Tim says, a thoughtful look on his face.

"I thought you said they were cousins," Jason says to cover his automatic excitement over the possibility of an excuse to spend more time with Tim.

"Eh, Conner's family situation is complicated." Tim shrugs as he snaps the lid back on a plastic bin. "You know how it is—you're friends with Kory Anders," he adds.

Jason feels the blood drain from his face at Kory's name. "Don't tell me you two have been talking," he begs. Kory teaches the occasional class at Battle Acts between modeling gigs, so it's entirely possible she and Tim have met.

"Would it be so bad if we have?" Tim counters, blue eyes bright with mischief.

"Ah, well. No?" Jason and Kory only ever went on a handful of dates before deciding they worked better as friends. Still, he's not sure he really wants her sharing any insights she may have into his character with Tim.

"Relax," Tim says with a laugh. "I work with her boyfriend. He's the one who mentioned you two know each other."

"Oh." That... actually makes a lot of sense. Of course Tim would know Roy—they both play around with robots for WayneTech. Still. "Don't see what my knowing Kory has to do with your friend's weird family situation."

"Really? Because I would think it's pretty..." Tim trails off, staring up at Jason. "Unless you don't know? You don't know. And here I thought you were just really—"

"Really what? What don't I know?" Jason demands, feeling more than a little peeved by this entire situation.

Tim tilts his head to the side and for one brief moment his eyes gain a queer, almost iridescent quality before settling back to their normal grey-blue state. "Huh. Well, that's on me. Shouldn't go around assuming things." He hefts the bin and turns away from the table. "This goes on the shelf over there? Anywhere in particular you want me to put it?"

"Wait, no, you can't just leave it at that," Jason insists, reaching out but still stopping just short of touching Tim's arm. "What don't I know?"

Tim beams at him. "Oh, Jay. If I just outright told you, that would be cheating."

 

* * *

 

During dinner later, Tim announces, "I'm joining the peewee game," which is honestly the last thing Jason expected despite all that passed between them earlier.

"You sure? I mean—"

"Jon deserves to have someone decent to play with instead Mr. Tiny God Complex."

"Oh, that's a bit strong. I know Damian can come off as a little holier-than-thou sometimes, but that's mostly because he's feeling so insecure. His mom kind of just dumped him on his dad before fucking off to have her own life and it shows." Jason is amazed at how much the kid has improved in the last year alone, since the start of the peewee game. "Plus, you really want to lock yourself into playing with a couple of kids?"

"Well, I was thinking... How about as a sort of guest character," Tim says thoughtfully. "Someone who they have to befriend in order to get information relevant to the campaign? Maybe a NPC you were planning to introduce anyway?"

"Well, there is Obleric the Boring," Jason allows. "They're supposed to encounter him in the next session, unless things get seriously sidetracked."

Tim wrinkles his nose. "I don't want to play a _boring_ character."

"He's just called that because I originally planned to have him drone on and on about trivial matters. A really dull, scholarly type. Lives in a tower with a bunch of books, tends to prattle on about just about anything. The boys were going to get some key information about the big bad from him, once they managed to get him on the right track with the droning," Jason explains. The character doesn't exist as much more than a name and a basic descriptor as being a scholar in the campaign guide. By making Obleric a boring, meandering type, he had hoped to teach Damian a lesson in patience.

"Scholar in a remote location, I can work with that," Tim says, a thoughtful look on his face as he picks up the guide and opens it to skim the blurb at the front. "Do you mind if I tweak the character a bit? I think it might be time to teach the little prince a lesson in how appearances can be deceiving with a side of treating everyone with respect, since you never know who you might be talking to."

That sounds like a great idea, very in keeping with Jason's original plan. Still, the delighted smirk on Tim's face is more than a little disconcerting. "Do I even want to know what you have planned?"

"Well, for starters, I thought I'd change his race. What's the point in playing in a fantasy world if you're just going to stick with humans all the time, right?" Tim says, his smirk widening to an all-out grin.

 

* * *

 

The next day, Tim ducks into the shop thirty minutes before closing and makes a beeline for the guides and compendiums. "I need to do research," he explains. "I always borrowed my friend's books back in school, I don't have any of my own."

"If this is for the peewee game, you can always use the reference set I keep upstairs for game prep," Jason offers. It always feels weird, making his friends buy the stuff they need for the games.

"Don't be silly, I can't do that. This is a business, you should be getting something in exchange," Tim says, grabbing a bestiary from the shelf and briefly flipping through it.

"I thought I was getting the pleasure of your company."

Tim pauses in the midst of his reading, having already abandoned the bestiary in favor of a slimmer volume Jason can't recognize from here. "Jason," he asks slowly. "What are we to each other?"

"Friends?" After over two months of shared meals, he hopes they're that much, at least.

Narrowing his eyes, Tim frowns slightly. "Just friends?"

"And neighbors?" Jason nervously wipes his sweaty palms on the legs of his jeans, then stops, stuffing his hands in his back pockets instead. This is stupid, he should just tell the guy he likes him instead of stressing out over it all the time. "I mean, unless you want—that is. I mean." He flounders, unsure of how to phrase it. It's always been the other person asking him out, so this is something of a first for him.

"I ask," Tim says, diplomatically ignoring Jason's poor attempts at communication, "because I thought we were dating, and I wanted to make sure we were on the same page before we went any further."

"Dating, yes! That. That is definitely a thing I'd like to be doing. With you." Sighing, Jason pulls his hands back out of his pockets and leans back against the counter. "Sorry, I'm not that great at the whole relationship thing."

"That's fine," Tim reassures him, walking over to set the book he was looking at on the counter. "I'm pretty out of practice myself. We can figure it out together."

"Sounds like a plan," Jason agrees, grinning like an idiot as he reaches for the book. It's a copy of _The Wizards & Warriors Guide to Dragons, Drakes, and Wyverns_, which is unexpected enough to distract him. "A dragon. You're making Obleric _a fucking dragon_. "I don't… You can't just turn a minor NPC into a dragon, Tim."

"I don't see why not. Dragons are an exceedingly long-lived race, it makes sense for one to take an interest in history," Tim says patiently.

"Dragons are generally defeated and their hoards looted in this game," Jason reminds him. "Last time I tried giving one more depth, Damian still somehow managed to not only provoke a pacifist of four centuries into initiative, but then roll insanely good against them. Obleric is actually a key part of the quest chain; you make him a dragon and it's going to mess the game up when the kid kills him before he gets the crucial information he needs." Plus, he'd really like to have Tim around for more than just one session.

"Well, that just makes me want to try even harder." Something about Tim's eyes goes queer for a moment, the bright blue flashing weirdly in the fluorescent light as he grins dangerously. "Sounds like someone needs to learn a lesson or two."

 

* * *

 

A week later is the first peewee game Tim's sitting in on and it goes about as well as could be expected.

Jon is ecstatic when Jason informs them that Tim will be joining them for the foreseeable future, while Damian complains about how this is a violation of the arrangement between Jason and his father.

"Damian, I already called and got Tim's inclusion cleared by your dad. He feels Tim won't be a detriment to the game and agrees with me another adult helping to guide the story could make it more fun for you and Jon," Jason says, pleased with how he's able to maintain his calm. The kid is an interesting little guy, but sometimes he can be a real trial to deal with.

"I'm looking forward to playing with you," Tim says, gracing both boys with a bright smile. "Though Jason and I talked, and I'll actually just be taking over a planned NPC rather than playing a new party member, so this definitely won't be a permanent thing or anything like that."

"It better not be." Damian shoots him a dark look and, inexplicably, moves his chair over to close much of the distance between himself and Jon.

"Hey, not so close," the younger boy protests. "You're going to mess me up when I roll if you're like that."

Sighing, Damian scoots a few inches back, but still doesn't return to his usual position.

 _Kids._ Jason is so glad he has a good long while before he even has to _think_ about dealing with any of his own. 

They've been officially dating for about a month when they end up going back to Jason's after dinner out one evening. Ostensibly, they're going to finish off a bottle of wine Tim brought over the previous Sunday and watch a movie, but Tim says something ridiculous and one thing leads to another. They never make it past the Netflix main screen, spending nearly an hour making out before they give up the pretense and move the laptop to a less precarious position.

They don't have to move to the bed because they're already on it, and never before has Jason been so grateful he lives in a studio apartment. Sex with Tim isn't like anything else he's ever experienced before and he'd hate to have lost precious time moving from one room to another. Not that he thinks this is a one-time thing or anything. Oh god, he really hopes it's not a one-time thing.

Afterwards, he wants nothing more than to pull Tim close and snuggle for a bit, maybe put on a movie finally, or doze. Possibly try for another round in a bit.

Snuggling seems the name of the game at first, but before long Tim's rolling over and out of bed. "Sorry, bathroom," he says, grabbing his shirt off the floor and pulling it on as he walks across the room. It's longish, but it doesn't completely hide everything, and Jason pushes up on his elbows to admire the view until the bathroom door shuts.

It stays closed for a while, nearly twenty minutes, and he's starting to get a bit concerned. When it finally opens, Tim comes out fully dressed, though Jason doesn't even remember him grabbing the rest of his clothes earlier. "Hey, sorry to do this to you, but I got a call from work while I was in there. Something tripped the alarm in the lab and they need someone to come in and make sure nothing's missing," he says, waving his phone before shoving it in his pocket and his feet in his shoes.

"Right, no, you go do that," Jason says, struggling to keep the disappointment from his voice.

Tim gets as far as the door, hesitates slightly, then turns and crosses the few feet back to the bed, where leans over to cup Jason's cheek and draw him into a searing kiss. "It was really good, Jason. I think certain parts of some of my extremities are still a bit tingly," he says when he finally pulls back. "We are _definitely_ doing that again."

"Yeah, okay." Jason knows he's grinning like an idiot, but he really can't find it in himself to stop. "You can bet I'm board with that." 

"Good, because I'd be pretty put out if you weren't," Tim says, stealing one quick, final kiss before hurrying out the door.

 

* * *

 

Jon's father comes to pick up his son after Tim's second session with the peewee game. Tim grins when he glances up from gathering his things and sees the other man. "Hey, I'm Tim Drake," he says, leaning across the table and offering his hand. "Jason's a friend of mine and he was nice enough to let me join in on the boys' game for a bit when I said I missed playing."

"Clark," Jon's dad says, firmly shaking Tim's hand with his own. "You wouldn't be the same Tim Conner's always going on about, would you?"

"One and the same. It can be a small community sometimes, I suppose." Tim gives him one of those cutting smiles that never fails to send a shiver down Jason's spine as he releases Clark's hand.

Jason snorts. "If you think it's small, you need to go more conventions. There are actually a lot of people into this kind of thing, believe it or not. Occasional unlikely coincidences notwithstanding." The other two men jerk slightly as if startled, acting for the world as though they had completely forgotten he was there.

"Right, well. I wanted to say thanks," Clark says as he follows them out into the store. "For being a friend to Conner. You really helped him come to terms with… things."

"He just needed a different perspective on stuff. Realize that not all of us are like. Well." Tim shrugs.

Clark nods thoughtfully, one hand snapping out to snag the hood of Jon's jacket before he can get distracted by the wall of comics against the far wall of the shop. "Actually, we were planning on grabbing an early dinner before heading back to Metropolis. You're welcome to join us, if you like. It'll give me a chance to pick your brain about a few things."

Tim reaches back to take Jason's hand in his, squeezing it gently. "I'm afraid I have to decline the invitation. I already have plans for this evening."

Clark's eyebrows shoot up and he glances at Jason. "Ah, I see. Well. Maybe some other time?"

"Maybe," Tim says, still smiling slightly.

He and Jason spend a few minutes just standing there, watching as father and son leave, ambling down the street and out of sight. Finally, Jason's curiosity gets the better of him. "What was that all about? You two almost sounded like you were talking in code."

"Oh, well. Conner—I've mentioned Jon's cousin Conner, right? We were friends and roommates in college? Anyway, he was having some serious issues with one of his dads when we met. The dad in question is sort of a distant relative of mine, and I ran interference between them while straightening a few things out for Kon."

Jason sighs, rolling his eyes. "I swear, you either know or are related to half the people who come in here."

"Funny you should say that," Tim says, his eyes dancing with amusement, "since I'm pretty sure one of the ladies in your Thursday night game is a first cousin of mine."

 

* * *

 

"Hey, you okay?" 

Jason startles, glancing up from the campaign plan he's been staring at and not seeing for the past several minutes to look in Kyle's direction. "Yeah, sorry, zoned out for a bit there. Did you need something?" The session isn't due to officially start for another five minutes and the other players are busy trying comparing notes to determine what the best course of action should be against the interstellar criminal they left off battling last week. Kyle's character is still knocked out and hovering at one hit point, so apparently he doesn't feel the need to get in on the planning.

"No, you just looked pretty deep in thought." Kyle, irredeemable gossip that he is, leans in close. "Everything going okay with your boy?"

Jason weighs his options and makes an executive decision. "Actually, I'm not exactly sure. It _seems_ like things are going great, but..."

"But?"

"I think I might be falling short in bed," Jason admits, face half-hidden in his hands.

"Unless he's into some really weird crap and you're just not hitting his kinks, trust me when I say it's highly unlikely you're not satisfying that guy in bed," Kyle reassures him. "I know we were completely toxic for each other relationship-wise, but even with everything else, that was one area I where was never disappointed."

"Really, Rayner, there are things about you the rest of us never needed to know," Guy complains. When Jason lowers his hands, he sees the huddle has broken up, having apparently come to a consensus on a plan of action.

"Shut up." Kyle flips him the bird, not even glancing in his friend's direction. "What makes you think you're screwing up?"

"He's always happy during, and he says he's had a really good time after, but, uh. Each time, he finds some excuse to leave within thirty minutes of us finishing," Jason explains. God, this is fucking embarrassing, but it's not like he has many friends he can talk about this sort of thing with. Normally, he'd go to Roy, but Roy has to work with Tim every day and that could end up being all kinds of awkward.

Kyle winces. "Yikes, and I know how you love the cuddling. I dunno, Jay—maybe he just gets really embarrassed after sex? Some people do. You should just talk to him about it if it bothers you that much."

"Yeah, I guess." A glance at his watch tells him it's time, and he sighs and opens his laptop. "Right, okay. So, when we left off last week, you had cornered the interstellar mass-murderer and crime boss Amon Sur and were trying to take him in with varying degrees of success. Kyle, you're first in initiative—time to roll another death save."

 

* * *

 

"I hear tell there's trouble in paradise," Dinah says as soon as she comes in on Thursday night.

Jason ignores her, because that's generally the best way to respond to Dinah's goading remarks. Besides, he hasn't quite finished his research on 1920s tire treads, and there's a chance that might actually come up this week, if the game progresses smoothly and no one gets distracted by inconsequential red herrings for once.

"Don't tell me our illustrious GM is in danger of being dropped by his boy-toy," Helena says with a gasp, leaning forward. "You can't leave it at that, it's just cruel."

"Word on the street is things aren't going so hot in the bedroom," Zinda contributes, because she's just as bad as the rest of these yahoos sometimes.

"Do I even _want_ to know how you heard about this?" Jason demands, unable to take it any longer. He's hoping they didn't hear it from Babs, because there's a good chance if she knows about it, she probably heard it from Tim, which would mean things are just as bad as he feared.

Zinda hums, tapping her cheek. " _I_ heard it from Alan, who heard it from his daughter, who's dating one of the guys in the Tuesday night game."

"Yeah, same, actually," Dinah admits. "It's making the rounds but don't worry, I'm pretty sure Tim hasn't heard about it yet. Probably."

"Why do you people even _care_?" Jason demands, giving up on organizing his game images. Who is he fooling, there's no way they're going to get as far as the tire tracks tonight, especially if the ladies are more interested in his love life than the crime du jour they're supposed to be solving.

"We feel responsible for you, sweetie." Zinda leans over to pat his cheek. Jason shuts his laptop to be on the safe side—she's usually pretty good about not peeking, but he's learned to trust no one. "Go on, tell Auntie Zinda how it is you're failing to satisfy your man."

"I'm not—" Jason huffs, feeling frustrated and out of sorts. He still hasn't talked to Tim about this, he knows he should, but he doesn't want to rock the boat when everything seems to be going fine otherwise. "He says he's enjoying himself, but he keeps leaving right after." Except for the one time they got frisky at Tim's place—that time, Jason got booted out the door.

"Oh, well. If _that's_ the case, then there's probably a fairly simple answer," Dinah says.

"He's just not that into cuddling, I get it." Disappointing, but, well. Jason can more than deal with it, if it means staying with Tim.

"Well, I have no idea about _that_ ," Dinah says, shrugging her shoulders, "but I can definitely say you should probably check his fridge next time you're at his place. Seems to me you'll find the answer to all your problems there."

"Oh god, really?" Zinda stares at Jason, her eyes wide. "Jason, you absolute _dog_. I didn't even realize you had it in you."

"Do I even want to know what's going on, or are you ladies just traumatizing the poor kid again?" Hank demands from the doorway.

"Trouble in paradise," Helena crows.

"Well, I wouldn't go so far as to call it trouble, per se," Dinah says thoughtfully. "But things should definitely be getting more interesting around here in the near future."

"Don't worry about it, Jason," Renee says, nodding to him. "When the time comes, I've got some books you can borrow that will give you a good basic introduction on the fundamentals."

"Why would he need books when he can just ask us?" Dawn wants to know.

"What are you all even _talking_ about?" Jason demands.

"You'll learn soon enough." Babs smiles that weirdly omniscient smile of hers as she rolls into the room. "And _I'm_ going to win the pool."

"Again." Helena shoots her a glare.

"You have got to stop letting her in on the pools, Dinah. She cheats," Zinda demands.

"It's not cheating if I'm just naturally good at these things," Babs says loftily as she takes her usual spot at the table. "Maybe if you were better at augury you'd win sometimes."

Zinda grumbles to herself. "Cheater."

"Oh, hey, will you look at that," Jason says loudly, nipping the long-standing argument at the bud. "It's time to start."

 

* * *

 

Jason does such a good job blanking the entire conversation from his memory that when he's at Tim's a week later with yet another delivery of soup (because, of course, Tim is the sort to overwork himself and keep catching colds), he honestly has no ulterior motives when he says, "I'll put the rest in the fridge so you can just reheat it later."

There's a moment where panic flashes across Tim's feverish face, but he doesn't get any further than, "Wait, don't—!" before Jason is opening the fridge and. Staring.

At bowl upon bowl of eggs. "Wow, I didn't know you were so big on eggs," Jason says dumbly. "Are these goose eggs?" At least, he thinks they're goose eggs—they're slightly larger than the average chicken egg and have a pale pink cast to them and are covered in a scattering of maroon speckles.

"Conner—I've mentioned Conner, right? My roommate in college? He grew up on a farm, got me hooked on fresh eggs when we were in school," Tim babbles, sounding slightly frantic.

"Huh. Well, you might want something a little less heavy until you're feeling better?" Jason shifts a bowl to the side to make room for the soup, accidentally jostling an egg sitting apart from the rest as he does so. He catches it at the last moment before it can roll off the shelf, and when he does, the pearly shell turns a flurry of colors, swirling and beautiful. "What the hell?!" he gasps and stumbles backwards, slamming the fridge door behind him as he whirls around to face Tim. "What the fuck is going on here, Tim?"

"Oh. And I was doing so well, too," Tim says sadly. The fever-flush has spread further across his entire face, turning it a concerningly dark shade of bright-red.

Egg momentarily forgotten in the face of Tim's illness, Jason stumbles across the room, crouching down beside the futon. "You look awful," he says, dropping the egg on the duvet so he can feel Tim's forehead. "Fuck, you're burning up."

"It's fine, I'm fine, don't worry about it," Tim insists, feebly attempting to bat away Jason's hands. "Look, I didn't mean to—I thought you knew, is the thing, and then I realized you didn't and it was too late but I also really liked you and didn't want to scare you off and Barbara said you had potential, so it's practically my _duty_ to do something and—"

"Hey, hey, calm down. I don't care about your weird egg fixation, okay? Right now what we need to do is get you to the hospital before this fever starts killing brain cells."

Tim laughs, sounding slightly hysterical. "Honestly, I'm _fine_ , it's really just a cold, and a little heat's never done me any harm, I swear."

"Tim..."

"Jason. The egg, it's for you, if you want to—" Tim interrupts himself with deafeningly huge sneeze. The red flush to his skin ripples once, momentarily flashing a bright gold-red—and then Tim collapses inwards, disappearing into a pile of seemingly-empty clothes.

"What the hell—!" Jason dives forward, wrenching back the duvet and throwing discarded items of clothing to side, trying to figure out what in the everloving fuck just happened to his boyfriend.

"Woah, hey, calm down," Tim says, despite being nowhere in view. "I'm right here, I'm fine." A tiny paw wraps around his finger, stilling his hand. Glancing over, Jason stares.

There, sitting in the middle of Tim's clothes, is a perfectly formed dragon, almost exactly the same size as Mau the cat, only all over red and gold scales instead of fur.

The dragon waves its tail and, for want of a better word, smiles. "Hi, yes, it's me, I'm Tim, I'm a dragon, I've always been a dragon. Please don't freak out?"

"A dragon. My boyfriend is a dragon. I'm _dating_ a fucking _miniature dragon_ —"

" _Rude_." Tim (Tim? Definitely Tim's voice, so maybe it's telling the truth) huffs, a trickle of smoke escaping its (his?) mouth. "Yes, I know I'm on the small side, but I'm still in my first century so it honestly shouldn't count against me."

"I don't..." Jason sits down on the floor, trying to wrap his head around this. "A _dragon_?"

"Yup. My true form." Jason's finger is released and the dragon does a small pirouette, his wings flaring outward. "Or, well. The form I was when I first hatched. We're a shapeshifting race, and I spend most of my time as a human these days, so that's practically my true form as well when it comes down to it."

"Hatched?"

"Dragons are egg-layers. Actually, it's kind of funny, right? We're technically asexual, so we can't engage in the ol' sexual procreation in our true form, but we _can_ when we shift into the form of a sexed being, so honestly, you're part of a long-standing tradition of dragon-human couplings and this isn't nearly as weird as you might think it is, so—"

"Oh god, the eggs. Did we—you—am I—?" Jason freezes, another thought suddenly occurring to him, allowing him to avoid _that_ particular line of reasoning for just a little longer, and he grasps at it. "They _knew_."

"Excuse me?"

"The Thursday night ladies—they _knew_ you were a dragon. They thought it was so _funny_ when they found out your surname was _Drake_. Dinah said I should check your fridge if I wanted to know why you kept running off after sex, and it's full of _eggs_ and you're an _egg-laying_ _dragon_ —"

"Oh. Yeah, most of your Thursday night crowd consists of witches, except for the sorceress and my cousin Dinah." The dragon— _Tim_ —scratches his snout. "A lot of magical folk like to play Wizards & Warriors and the like. It lets us pretend we fully belong, at least for a little while."

" _Magical folk._ "

"Oh, sure. Witches, wizards, dragons, dryads, phoenixes—most of the non-humanoids can manage a decent enough glamour that even the ones who can't actually shift shape have been able to integrate into human society, but you never exactly _belong_ when there's a whole big part of yourself that you have to keep secret from all the mundane humans."

Jason really isn't sure how to handle any of this, but he should probably bite the bullet and focus on the important stuff. "Okay. Okay, you're a dragon. That's… I gotta be honest here, that's pretty weird, and I _am_ freaking out, but I guess it could be worse, you could be a terf or something."

"Ew, no." Tim wrinkles his snout in disgust—then wrinkles it a bit further, letting out a string of tiny, adorable sneezes. And Jason just used 'adorable' in reference to the giant lizard that is apparently his boyfriend—maybe he's a bit more okay with this than he initially thought. Though it still is pretty weird. "Sorry," Tim says, sounding more than a little stuffed up.

With a sigh, Jason snags a tissue from the box that's now out of the dragon's reach and holds it up to the little red snout. "Don't be. Colds happen. Especially when you overwork yourself and don't get enough food or rest."

"I know, but this project is really important and we've got a deadline and—"

"And now you're going to be too sick to even go in tomorrow, so I guess working too hard hurt more than helped, didn't it?"

Tim slumps, half-flopping into the hand holding the tissue. "Yeah, I guess so," he says, his words half-muffled. Jason doesn't even realize what he's doing, automatically scooping up the dragon and pulling him into his lap. Almost immediately, Tim curls around and cuddles up to Jason, making a happy sound that's almost a purr.

"Now, about those eggs," Jason says once the dragon is settled. "I take it the ones in the fridge are yours and are because you've been—that is to say, _we've_ been—" He stops, swallows in an attempt to clear the lump that keeps forming in his throat, trying to keep him from breathing. "Level with me, here. Am I going to be a dad?"

" _Really_ , Jason?" Tim's head pops up, whipping around to look in his direction. It's actually pretty neat how expressive that little lizard head can be, because the disgust is clear.

"I just found out my boyfriend has been running off after sex so he can lay eggs! Excuse me for being concerned about it!"

"Ugh, _no_. I'm keeping them in the _fridge_ , there's no way they're viable anymore. I'd break them to make sure, but they keep longer this way and I want to take them back in again to regain lost protein and magic. Plus, dragon egg shells are prized potion ingredients and Pam's promised to buy they off of me once they're clean," Tim says, naming the owner of Adventure Thyme. "She's a dryad, by the way. And a witch."

Because of course she is. "Well, that's a relief. Not quite ready to be a father yet." Not that he wouldn't mind, someday. Maybe when he has an apartment that's more than just two rooms and a hot plate.

"You're not the only one."

"This is what a dragon egg looks like, then?" Jason asks, reaching to pick up the rainbow-color egg from where he dropped it earlier. "Pretty."

"Oh, that's not..." Tim paws away the tissue and scrambles up to perch on Jason's arm, wrapping his tail around the biceps to stabilize himself. He gently places a hand on the egg. "This is different from the others. It's not really a dragon egg. Well, I mean. It _is_ , because I made it, but it was never going to hatch into a new dragon. That's why I had it separate from the others."

"So what is it, then?"

"It's, well. It's meant for you, if you want it." Tim ducks his head, half-hiding behind a wing before peeking out again. "If you're okay with all of this, it would wake up your magic."

"My _what_ now?"

Tim flutters his wings and takes a deep breath, straightening his spine like he's about to give a lecture. And maybe he is, because when he speaks, it sounds very much like he's repeating something he's either said or heard many times before. "As natural shapeshifters who deal with all manner of magical beast and being, dragons have become the _de facto_ 'ambassadors of magic'—we frequently act as mediators between different species and have helped newer, younger species get their footing when they finally gain the ability to use magic. A large part of that in these modern times is helping humans with magical potential who grew up mundane awaken their magical abilities when and if they want to."

"Wait, for serious? I could do magic." It's mind-boggling, to say the least. In some ways, it feels even more out there than the idea that his boyfriend is a _dragon_.

"Humans are a unique species in that you're rarely born with active magic ability. Many can live their whole lives never knowing their potential, simply because they never chanced upon a dragon. It's also why there tend to be a lot of magical humans in an area where a dragon has chosen to make their home," Tim explains, small hands petting Jason's arm as he speaks, like he's attempting to calm an untamed beast. "Like all the people in your Thursday night game. Dinah probably found them and helped wake up their magic over the years."

"That's... a lot to wrap my head around, Tim," Jason admits, carefully setting the egg back down on the bed. "Do I get a choice in the matter?"

"Of course!" Tim trills, grabbing Jason's thumb in both hands and squeezing it reassuringly. "Dragons automatically produce magic eggs when they meet a human with magical potential. We generally tend to wait until we're certain the human is worthy of the egg before passing it on, but we would _never_ force someone to take it if they didn't want it."

"Would it be alright if I thought on it for a few days? It's already a lot, just dealing with, well. You."

Tim rubs his head against Jason's hand before slipping back down to curl up in his lap. "Of course. It's a big decision, and not one you can go back on once you've made it."

"Thanks. I really appreciate it." Tentatively, he reaches down and rubs a hand over Tim's back, marveling at the warm, leather-like quality of his scales. They don't feel cold at all.

"Jason?" Tim asks sometime later, startling Jason from the half-doze he'd slipped into. "Are you... okay about this? About me?" The warm body in his lap shivers momentarily, stretching out as it gains weight and mass. "I understand if it's too weird and you'd rather break up," Tim says, pushing up to stare at him with big, familiar, and all-too-human blue-grey eyes.

"Don't be an idiot," Jason scoffs, ruffling Tim's hair and dropping a kiss on his forehead. "It's definitely weird, but I've also spent the past several years dealing with fantasy nerds day in and day out. I think I can handle something as simple as dating a dragon."

**Author's Note:**

> [I have a tumblr!](http://themandylion.tumblr.com/) Come visit if you want ridiculous AU headcanons, rants about the English language (and/or publishing), plague fangirling, adorable baby bats, and veeeeery occasional fanart.


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